


The Real Thing

by stone_cold



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #WetFromTheShower, AU After the Fall, M/M, Masturbation, Not Beta'd, Will showers alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:51:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7341622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stone_cold/pseuds/stone_cold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will has a little alone time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Real Thing

......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

There was a particular taste to the water in this place that Will had come to associate with Hannibal. A slight acidic, lemon piquancy that lingered on the tongue complimenting all the other tastes and aromas that made Hannibal, Hannibal. Will stood in the shower, eyes squeezed tight, mouth open, water cascading from his lips like a glorious fountain, body glistening as jets of warm water pummelled his muscles into a warm, comfortable mess.

He was, on this occasion, so very glad that Hannibal was fussy, liking only the finer things, because man ... this shower was just bliss and god only knew, a full stomach, warm shower and a comfortable bed were, other than Hannibal, all that it took to make him truly content these days. Will turned around, firm water jets working his back muscles like a pro, groaning in contentment and rolling his shoulders beneath the wet heat, relishing how the muscles loosened and unwound ... well, most of his muscles. One of his muscles a little lower down was rebelling, thoughts of Hannibal bringing it to life, making it stiffen, sit up and beg for attention.

They shared a shower often. After the fall Will was so traumatised, so fearful that he could hardly bear to let Hannibal out of his sight. He clung to him in the dead of night in their bed, body stiff and trembling, unable to sleep without the constant smell and presence of the older man calming and grounding him. Will had lost so much in his life, albeit most of it because of Hannibal, that the thought of losing even this was intolerable, unbearable. But Hannibal was so careful, so gentle with him, more than he could ever have thought possible. Hannibal told him in a thousand different ways every single day how much he loved him and treasured him and gradually Will's forts collapsed - he accepted, he reciprocated, because he truly did love him.

The first time they'd ever made love had been in this shower. Will had suffered through one of his many panic attacks - Hannibal had popped out for some provisions and had been gone longer than he'd expected and he just ... cracked. On his return Hannibal had found him wailing, bundled up into the corner of the room like a child, rocking and holding himself as if he would fall to pieces. He'd hit Hannibal, lashing out in fear and anger, his mind screaming betrayal and loss and abandonment. Hannibal had taken it all, gathering him up firmly in his strong arms and depositing them both in the shower, clothes and all. Cold water first, shocking Will into reality, then warm ... gently removing their clothes and stroking Will into a near-catatonic state of calm. A short while later Will had lifted his head and looked Hannibal straight in the face. They stared at one another for a moment before the younger man reached up and took Hannibal's face in his two hands, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. Then he'd kissed him. Soft and sweet. With tongues.

Will hummed deep in his chest remembering the tenderness, remembering the relief at letting go, but more importantly the white-hot rush of lust that burned through his veins on that first night and every night since. He smiled fondly, his lips quirking in that lop-sided way that he knew drove Hannibal insane with desire and he felt his cock twitch at the memory of how Hannibal would grab him, devouring him with his mouth until Will hadn't a coherent thought in his entire body. He moaned softly in remembrance, his back arching in a comfortable stretch as his hand found itself sliding down towards his cock. Will opened one eye, listening. Hannibal was still out on an errand and he was horny now and it had been a long time since he'd last touched himself.

Will reached up and grabbed a bottle of shower gel, pouring a generous amount on to his bare chest. He rubbed it slowly over his neck and chest, fingers skating over hardening nipples that he tweaked and teased. Damn, it felt so good and the shower gel smelt like Hannibal. One hand stroked his cock firmly, thumb teasing the sensitive head, imagining Hannibal's tongue probing - the other slid over his buttock, soapy and warm, seeking the puckered entrance hidden there. He bent over slightly, finger probing the warm, eager flesh, soaped up and slippery, sliding into him with ease and ... holy ... fuck ... he could feel his ass clench around his finger and he pushed it deeper, searching for that sweet spot, the one that Hannibal could find blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back and it just ... wasn't ... enough. Wasn't Hannibal.

Two fingers now, slick and hungry and hot, slipping inside him, rubbing that little bundle of nerves that made him ... OH! Fuck! ... Yes ... Hannibal ... Yes ... His grip tightens on his cock and its slick too, pre-cum lubricating his palm, smooth skin sliding over sensitive glans and making him gasp out loud ... panting now, like a bitch in heat ... body and arms straining as his hips jack backwards onto his probing fingers, forwards to work his rock-hard cock in his hand and its so good ... so ... fuck, yeah ... so goddamned good ... and he's coming ... white light, white heat surging through his cock and his ass and ... ahhhhhh .... Hanni ... fuck ... please .... and he's coming so hard he seeing constellations and hearing symphonies and ... goddamn ...

His knees buckle and Will slides onto the floor of the shower, breathing like a marathon runner, muscles screaming in over-use and sheer delight and he tilts his head back, eyes and mouth full of water and it tastes like Hannibal and nice as this has been, as good as he feels, its not enough. Its not enough. And so he grabs a towel, wraps it around his waist and pads into their bedroom in bare feet. Throws open the wardrobe and grabs Hannibal's favourite shirt. It smells like love and home and contentment. Will shrugs it on over his wet skin and lounges on the bed, waiting. Waiting for the real thing.

FIN


End file.
